


Translation

by wedjateye



Category: Firefly
Genre: Bondage, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-28
Updated: 2011-03-27
Packaged: 2017-10-17 07:08:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/174209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wedjateye/pseuds/wedjateye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mal's late. Simon's found other entertainment.</p><p>Silly fic inspired by Kispexi2, who is good at journal translation. It somehow spawned three chapters with a little encouragement on her part and some smut/kink crept in too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Related Activities

Mal swears angrily as he strides towards the door of the saloon. Simon ain't like to forget this in a hurry. First moon where it's been safe enough for him to venture from Serenity for months. And then that qingwa cao de liumang contact insisted on negotiating the deal for hours till even Zoe looked bored enough to eat her own liver.

Mal can picture the pissed off look on the Doc's face. Can almost hear the tap of his foot, the superior tone and refined Mandarin dialect he uses at times like this. It's almost enough to make Mal decide to apologise right off, as soon as he gets there. 'Cept he knows this ain't his fault.

Last thing he expects is to see Simon's full wattage smile. The one that always twists Mal's insides a little bit with the wanting to bask in it as long as possible. The one, he suddenly discovers, that he could kill for. Might kill for right now if the six foot plus hunk of muscle with impossibly blue eyes standing next to Simon at the bar don't remove said eyes right now from that very same smile.

Simon is gazing up at the stranger through his lashes and laughing at something they have just shared. Mal tries to unsettle him some by stepping a little too close inside his personal space. But Simon doesn't seem at all surprised to see him and  Mal ends up cursing his tactics as Simon steps away from him, moving closer to Mr. Chiselled Jaw.

"Captain Reynolds," Simon purrs "So nice of you to stop by."

"Who's your friend, Doc?" Mal is proud of how neutral he keeps his voice.

"Oh!" Mal can't recall ever seeing Simon's eyelashes flutter in that way before. He's sure Simon is deliberately teaching him a lesson. "How rude of me!" Simon continues, turning to place one hand on an enormous bicep. "Randall?" Slight pause and was that a squeeze? Mal is almost positive this is a lesson. "This is Captain Reynolds."

Mal pointedly bumps against Simon, dislodging his grip on Mr. I Have My Teeth Whitened, as he leans forward to shake hands. Firm grip. Almost too firm. Definitely steroid enhanced.

"It's a pleasure." Mal keeps his tone just this side of menacing, irritated to see the stranger, apparently oblivious, turn his attention back to Simon immediately. Simon also seems a mite distracted, judging from how his hand is still fluttering in the vicinity of Mr. I Didn't Get These Muscles At No Gym's arm.

"Can I get you two a drink?" Mal grates.

"No thank you. Randall has been keeping us well supplied." Simon vaguely waves a half empty cocktail glass and Mr. Not A Hair Out Of Place beams like he's cracked the solution to Universal Peace. Maybe this is not so much a lesson and more of an aberration. An alcohol fuelled aberration.

Mal feels the need for copious quantities of alcohol his own self.

"Randall was just telling me all about his work," Simon simpers as Mal orders a double whiskey straight up.

"Oh?"

"Yes, I translate journals," Mr Sexy Low Rumbling Voice elaborates.

" _Journals_   huh?" That gets a reaction from Simon for the first time; he shoots Mal an uncertain frown at the innuendo oozing from his voice.

"Technical journals. You know, plastics industry, that kind of thing." Mr. I Buy My Shirts One Size Too Small On Purpose barely glances at Mal as he replies.

"So, you here on plastics industry related activities?" Mal asks, pleasant again, biding his time. He gulps his drink to keep from adding 'Or did you just want to fuck my boyfriend, possibly using some of those plastic byproducts in all sorts of innovative ways?'

"Oh no," Mr. I'll Show You Who Has The Tightest Pants replies slowly. But he's eyeing Simon like he can think of at least thirty things to do with transparent plastic wrap.

"I'm here for an article on rubber."

Mal snorts his drink painfully into every sinus he has. When he finishes spluttering he has the full attention of both men.

"Randy, it's been fun," Mal says, yanking Simon forward by the elbow. "We'll be going now."

They are almost three blocks away before he relaxes his grip a little, realizing that Simon isn't resisting at all.

"This moon ain't as safe as I thought," Mal growls.

"I'm ready to go back." Simon dazzles him with that smile. "I have a feeling I'm going to get everything I wanted out of this stop anyway."


	2. Related Activities

Mal barely pauses to hit the airlock button when they reach Serenity, dragging Simon along with a single-minded purpose that has Simon lightheaded with anticipation.

"What are we doing here?" he asks, confused, as Mal veers into the infirmary.

"You'll see Doc."

Mal makes a beeline for the drawers and ransacks them one-handed, not releasing his firm hold on Simon's arm. When he finds what he is looking for, Simon can't help his eyes widening as he swallows hard. This is going to be more interesting than he thought.

"This'll have to do." Mal eyes him speculatively. "'Less you got some plastic or rubber lying around someplace I don't know about?"

Simon shakes his head, not trusting his voice.

"Good." Mal grins wickedly and hauls Simon to his bunk.

"Um, Mal?" Simon indicates River's door with his head.

Mal chuckles, low and dangerous in his throat. "Don't worry Simon, I got all kinds of ways of keeping you quiet."

Simon can feel the hairs on his arms tingling as they rise.

Mal strips Simon's clothes off in record time, none too gently, then does the same to the bed, leaving only the bottom sheet in place. He tosses the tangled mess of clothes and bedding into the corner and sheds his gunbelt before pushing Simon down onto his back. A couple of minutes later Mal is admiring his handiwork.

Simon pulls against the restraints binding each wrist to the bed frame and finds no leeway at all. He feels vulnerable, watching a fully clothed Mal watching him. So it's really fascinating the way his breath is hitching in his throat. And truly engrossing that all kinds of physiological responses don't seem at all intimidated.

Mal sits astride him and Simon remembers just in time to bite his lip, smothering his involuntary moan.

"You look so hot right now, do you know that?" Mal asks hoarsely.

"Mmm." Simon closes his eyes, arching up to rub against Mal.

Mal responds by shifting to lie along the length of Simon's body.

"Clothes," Simon prompts.

Mal ignores him and starts teasing his earlobe. Sucking and biting until Simon's shoulders ache with trying to twist away from the too intense stimulation. He can't control the noises pouring forth from his throat.

"Now, now," Mal cautions, "don't wanna have to gag you Doc."

Simon groans even louder, then tastes blood as he bites his own lip again hard. Mal only ever calls him 'Doc' in bed when he is in an especially commanding frame of mind. As if Simon needs that reinforced right now.

"Yet," Mal adds, laughing at the resulting buck of Simon's hips.

"Still hours to go," Mal hums in his ear.

Simon wonders if anyone has ever passed out just from dirty talk.

Mal moves his mouth down Simon's body, sucking small circles into his pale skin. Pausing to tease his nipples thoroughly. Simon's craving translates into repeated incoherent pleas. But Mal is plainly intent on stamping his authority all over Simon's body. He is in no hurry, despite the frantic urgency Simon is trying to communicate with pointed upward thrusts. By the time Mal reaches his belly, he is holding Simon's hips down firmly to keep him in place.

"Mal please!" Simon has stopped biting his lips. He is probably too hoarse for anyone to hear now and he is really beyond caring.

Finally, Mal stops what he is doing to look up. A lazy, satisfied smile plays about his lips.

"Y'know?" Mal drawls, "seems to be something missing."

Simon can think of a couple of things, one of them being his sanity. "Missing?" he rasps.

"Yep. Think it might be that dinner we shoulda been having 'bout now."

"Dinner?" Simon is incredulous.

Mal peels himself away from Simon, snagging his gunbelt and making for the door in one fluid motion.

"See you tomorrow Doc," he smirks as he slides the door shut.

Stupefied, Simon stares for a good thirty seconds.

"Mal?" he hisses finally, knowing it is futile.

Forcing his breathing to slow, he tests his wrists again. They aren't budging. A low stream of fervent Mandarin cursing fills the room for several minutes as he struggles. Still nothing. He can't call for help. Not with River across the hall. He can't reach anything with his legs that he could use to cover himself. Doesn't think he could bring himself to face Book ever again if by some miracle he was the one who answered.

Simon realises he is just going to have to pray that Mal has the decency to return before anyone else discovers him. Whenever that might be.

The worst of it is that Simon knows it's really all his fault. He never should have insisted on buying the best grade medical tape available.


	3. Culmination

The pleasant buzz acquired from several cocktails has long since dissipated. Simon's tongue feels parched, his throat raw from all the guttural noises Mal dragged out of him earlier. An itch has taken up permanent residence on the tip of his nose. Maddeningly just beyond his neck's craning limit when he tries to scratch. He focuses on the itch. It keeps his mind off the cramping ache that burns through both arms and shoulders.

He's learnt just one thing from all this: Mal is never going to get to have sex with him _ever again_.

Simon is contemplating yelling for help. He could learn to look Book in the eye again. And how badly scarred would River be? She's probably eavesdropped on far worse.  He thinks he might weep with relief whoever comes through that door. Well, maybe not if it were Jayne. After all, the objective here is to get untied.

When the door does slide open, Simon jumps, wincing at the pain that shoots the length of his arms.

"Not quite tomorrow yet but I'm feeling mighty generous after that fine meal," Mal drawls.

Simon glares every sharp blade he's ever heard of.

"Relax Doc, I saved you some."

"Cut the goushi Mal. Let me loose." Simon spits the words.

Mal widens his eyes innocently. "Why Doc, you do look a mite uncomfortable there. Let me see what I can do 'bout fixing that."

He scoops a pillow from the floor and lifts Simon's head, easily evading the attempted bite, to slide the pillow into position.

"When I get out of here I'm going to conveniently forget there is such a thing as a Hippocratic oath," Simon vows hoarsely.

"No you won't," Mal contradicts confidently. "Wanna know why?"

Simon decides he won't play this game any more. He closes his eyes, turns his face to the wall, wills himself to deafness.

Mal's hot breath tickles against his neck.

"Because I'm going to make you feel so good, that's the only thing you'll remember."

Simon puts every ounce of concentrated disdain he can muster into his snort.

Mal is unfazed, climbing onto the bed alongside him, bringing his face close to Simon's again before continuing.

"Because you want me."

Simon doesn't dignify that with a response. Doesn't stir as Mal touches light fingertips to his chest, finding each mark left earlier.

"Because I want you." Mal is removing his own clothes now, stopping to drop gentle kisses on Simon's neck and collarbones. Simon is unmoved.

"Because there's something about you, Simon, that gets to me." Skin on skin. Doesn't feel good at all.

"Makes my breath catch." Not remotely persuasive as Mal begins to suck along his throat, hands caressing up the inside of his legs.

"Makes me quiver." Not the tiniest bit stimulating as lips nibble across his own, fingers sliding to follow the crease where thigh joins hip.

"Makes me sweat." Frankly uninspiring as Mal's mouth moves to a nipple, tracing small circles with a light touch on Simon's lower belly at the same time.

"Because I've had all this time to cool down and you know what that means..."

Just a physiological response happening. Doesn't mean anything about Simon's state of mind, as Mal presses their mouths together, kissing him passionately.

He's not going to ask. Not going to let Mal do this to him.

Mal reaches down to grip Simon's Pavlovian response firmly.

"What?" Simon groans.

"Means now I'm going to be able to last a very, _very_ long time."

Surrender flows through Simon so completely that he's not sure where Mal's skin ends and his begins. Mal's mouth is hard against Simon's, whose lips are bruised from earlier. But Simon lifts his head from the pillow anyway, taking everything Mal can give and demanding more, thrusting their tongues together. Mal matching his rhythm with smooth strokes of his hand.

"More," Simon pants.

Mal obliges, lifting Simon's legs to slide fingers slick with lubricant briefly inside him, following with the slow-hard-burn of penetration. Simon feels his eyes roll back in his head, breathing deeply as everything coalesces into one overwhelming sensation. Then Mal is moving. Harder and faster than usual. Slamming into Simon's body, driving the air from his lungs. Unable to grip with his arms, Simon finds himself riding each thrust in a way he has never experienced. Intensity building with repeated brushes against his prostate, cock throbbing so painfully he yearns for friction. Mal is making this last forever and Simon is just hanging on by a thread. He is unable to even form the thoughts for what he wants. Can only feel the escalation within himself. Breath sobbing in his raw throat, every muscle clamouring for release.

Mal finally starts to lose rhythm, jerking in a way that Simon knows means he is nearing orgasm. Simon begs wordlessly. Then Mal is reaching for him, kissing him fiercely as he pumps hard. Slowing his own savage thrusts until Simon is arching taut, screaming silently, coming for an eternity.

Pins and needles pull him painfully back to reality. Mal is rubbing life back into his arms and wrists, kissing the marks left by the tape. Simon watches, feeling strangely detached from his body.

"Comfortable?" Mal asks, arranging Simon's limbs for him gently. Simon manages a small nod.

"Want something to eat or drink?"

"Water," Simon croaks.

Mal gets a glass, leans Simon back against him and steadies his hands as Simon drinks his fill. Afterwards Mal retrieves the bedcovers and settles them, holding Simon close.

"Bit intense, huh?"

Simon nods dazed agreement.

"Glad you're in my bed and not Randy's," Mal admits.

Simon feels more centered at that. Laughs and kisses Mal.

"Me too."


End file.
